A Matter of Honor
by Skykomish1
Summary: Two young men just beginning to follow the outlaw trail, visit a former employer in the middle of the night to return stolen property.


Feathery clouds blurred across a crescent moon, while the hoot of an owl echoed through the deserted streets. Even the saloon crouched silent and dark at the end of the block.

Hunched amid shadows, a scrawny adolescent poised motionless as a spooked hare. He listened for the hollow tread of booted feet. A pale hand snaked out of the darkness and landed on his shoulder. The youth spun, and stopped with his gun drawn and pointed. At the sight of the familiar figure, he holstered his weapon and frowned.

"Don't do that, Heyes," he whispered urgently. "I coulda shot ya."

"Ya wouldn't do that." Dark-brown eyes peered at the empty street. "Deputy?"

The shake of shaggy, blond curls was his answer.

"Door's open." Heyes vanished back into the shadows.

Blue eyes flicked up and down the street before Jed Curry slipped into the darkness after his friend.

"Now what?" Heyes asked quietly as his friend latched the door.

"Why're ya askin' me?"

"Because this harebrained scheme is your idea. You insisted we come back. I'm just along for the ride and to keep you outta trouble," snapped the older boy.

"We owe it to him. He helped us when we had nothin'."

"And kicked us back out again three weeks before Christmas! No place to go. Hardly any money. Did you forget how cold these mountains were? Snow and ice and no job or place to sleep."

"That's not fair," Curry growled. "He warned us. Said he'd have to let us go. It weren't his fault that we spent all our money. We emptied his safe! What kinda trouble do ya think we caused him. It's a matter of honor, Heyes. Mr. Blake helped us. We need to pay him back."

Heyes' grunt might have been assent or scorn. "Let's return the money and get outta here."

Jed strained to see his friend creeping through the dark interior of the familiar shop. At least, it should have been familiar. They'd worked here and slept in the back room for four months, but things felt different. Maybe Mr. Blake had remodeled. Blake's General Store had been a fixture in this part of Helena for years. It could use some sprucing up.

"Something's not right," hissed Heyes from deep inside the store.

Curry felt his way through the darkness, until he bumped into his partner. "Light the candle."

Heyes fished a candle stub and matches from a pocket of his worn jacket. Using his body as a shield, he hunched over as the light flared and shrank into the flickering glow of a lit wick.

The feeble illumination revealed a store full of hats. The young men searched the shop, but found nothing but head wear.

Curry checked the counter. "Bring the light over here."

The dark-haired youth brought the candle and lowered it to shine on some paperwork.

"Wilson's Millinery," Heyes read aloud. "Are we in the right place?"

"Ya know we are."

"Maybe Mr. Blake moved the business."

"Why? He liked it here."

Heyes grunted.

"Do ya think he went outta business cuz we took his money?" wondered Curry in a hollow voice.

"Nope. If takin' that money pushed him outta business, he was already in trouble. That's not our fault. Let's get outta here."

The boys hurried away from the empty streets near Blake's General Store. Arriving in a part of town still awake and active, they relaxed into a casual stroll. Light and music streamed from open doors farther up the block.

Heyes stopped across from the saloon. "I'm thirsty. How 'bout you?"

"Beer sounds good. Do ya think Mr. Blake reported us to the sheriff?" Curry asked with a nervous flick of his eyes.

"Even if he did, who's gonna recognize us. It's been nearly a year, and we never came into this part of town."

Jed nodded and pushed his way through the doors into the smoky interior. They paused, evaluating the occupants and the atmosphere. It was quiet except for an off-key player piano churning out a jaunty melody. One table boasted a small-stakes poker game. Another served as a pillow for a man passed out next to an empty bottle. A couple of cowboys sat at the bar nursing whiskeys. The bartender was cleaning glasses. He tossed the boys a professional smile, but continued to wipe a graying rag inside a beer mug. Heyes skirted by Curry and headed to the end of the bar.

"Two beers."

The bartender laid down his cloth and filled the glasses. Jed joined his partner as the beers arrived. The coins Heyes laid on the polished wood were quickly scooped away.

The man behind the bar spoke through a bushy mustache. "Kinda late for you boys to be out, ain't it. Is someone wonderin' where ya are?"

Heyes gulped some beer. "Don't worry about us, Mister. We won't cause any problems. We're just passing through on personal business."

"Personal business, huh? Welcome to Helena, then." He returned to his dishes.

Curry set down his half-drained mug. "We gotta find Mr. Blake, Heyes."

"No. We don't." The dark eyes scanned for anyone listening. "We gotta stay clear of trouble and move on. Mr. Blake means trouble."

"We caused the trouble, and we gotta make it right." Curry lowered his voice. "What if he lost his business cuz of us?"

"If he was already havin' troubles, we ain't to blame for that," grumbled Heyes. "How were we to know he couldn't afford a little loss?"

"A little loss!" Curry's voice rose.

Heyes glared a warning.

Curry continued in a whisper. "I think he lost mor'n a little."

"He shoulda been able to afford it. Leave it be. We'll get a good night's sleep and head out of town after breakfast."

Curry scowled. Icy blue eyes bored a whole in the wood of the bar.

"Need a refill?" asked the barkeep.

The blond jumped.

"Sorry, son. Didn't mean to startle ya'. Do ya want another?"

He nodded, and the man took both empty glasses. Curry watched the bartender.

Brown eyes slid sideways. "Watcha thinkin'?"

Curry didn't answer. The bar-keep deposited the refilled mugs. Jed paid this time, and stared at the retreating bartender. "Hey, Mister," he called out. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Sure, what is it?"

Heyes opened his mouth, but it snapped shut at the look on his friend's face.

"What happened to Blake's General Store on Lyndale Street?" asked Curry.

"What makes ya ask?"

"We were told to pick up supplies there," Heyes interjected. "But when we went by today, we couldn't find it. Did it move?"

"I'm not real familiar with that end of town, but Gerald, the bald fella at the end of the bar, he might know. His cousin works on Lyndale Street. I'd ask him."

"Thank ya, sir," murmured Jed as he picked up his beer and headed down the bar.

Heyes wrapped his hand around his drink and started to follow. With a shrug and a sigh, he sank back onto his stool. Chasing after his partner was likely to draw attention. He took a deep breath and waited for Curry to return.

After a brief conversation, his friend came back and drained his second beer. "Shut down cuz of money troubles. Mr. Blake's workin' different jobs now. He's the night attendant at the livery stable over on Centennial Street. He has a room there where he sleeps when he's tendin' the horses."

"Now that you know he's okay, can we let it go?"

"No, Heyes. I'm goin' to the livery." Curry placed an extra coin on the counter and turned to leave.

"That's risky," Heyes objected, placing a hand on his partner's wrist to hold him still.

Curry stared at the restraining hand until it slowly pulled away. Blue eyes met brown, first in challenge and then in a silent plea. "Will ya come?"

Heyes looked around to make sure no one was listening. "We could end up in jail," he whispered.

Curry held his friend's gaze, and then strode to the doors without a word.

Heyes rolled his eyes, drained his beer, and hurried after him.

When they arrived at the livery, the moon hovered near the horizon, skimming the tops of the buildings. The clouds had vanished, revealing stars like hard edged crystals high in the black sky. The temperature was dropping. Curry tightened his cloth jacket around his skinny frame. Heyes blew on his hands before shoving them deep into the pockets of his coat.

"Now what?" asked a grouchy Heyes as they haunted a side door.

Curry raised his hand to knock.

The older boy grabbed his wrist before his fist connected with the wood. "What do ya think you're doin'? If ya knock loud enough to wake him up, you could bring other folks. We don't need an audience."

"Got a better idea?"

Heyes tried the door. It was secured with a simple latch. A smile crept across his face as he fished a knife out of his pocket. He unfolded the tool and slipped the blade between the door and the wall. Metal plinked softly and the door fell ajar. Heyes' eyes sparkled above a wide grin. Curry drew an old revolver from a worn holster and held it against his thigh.

The creek of rusty hinges caused the horses to nicker softly. The boys froze in the doorway, listening for any human movement. When no one called out or struck a light, they slipped inside and pushed the door closed. Hovering near the exit, they waited for their eyes to adjust to the deeper darkness. Once they could discern the silhouettes of the horses, they crept between the stalls looking for Blake's room.

At the end of the barn, a half-door blocked a stairway. Curry used his revolver to point above their heads and raised his eyebrows in question. Heyes nodded and stepped over the short door. Placing each foot carefully, he glided to the second floor, shadowed closely by his partner. At the top of the stairs a hallway led to a room with no door. Creeping inside, Heyes hunkered down next to the bed. A gray haired man with a lined face snored lightly and twitched in his sleep. Heyes motioned for Curry to secure the other side. Placing his hand across the man's mouth, the older boy woke their former employer.

The man's eyes flew open in sleepy alarm.

"It's okay, Mr. Blake. Nobody's gonna hurt ya. We just wanna talk," Heyes reassured.

Blake's brows drew together in confusion.

"Jed, light the lamp, will ya?" asked Heyes. "Mr. Blake, can I trust ya not to yell? We don't want to hurt you, but my friend has a gun if it's necessary."

Curry turned the lamp down low, and frowned at the implied threat. Blake nodded, and Heyes removed his hand.

The older man sat up in bed. "Heyes? Jed? Why are you two here in the middle of the night?"

Heyes waited for his partner to explain.

"We came to set things right, sir." Without further words Curry handed him a thick envelope.

Blake opened it and saw a wad of currency. "What's this?" He looked into blue eyes and then brown.

"It's the same amount that was in your safe the night we . . ." Jed couldn't finish the sentence. "We never meant for you to lose your store."

Blake laid a hand on Curry's shoulder. "Too much poker, whiskey, and dodgy investments

had as much to do with losin' the store as you boys stealing from me."

The blond winced at the word 'stealing.' Heyes didn't flinch.

Blake studied the matted curls on Curry's lowered head. He removed his hand from the slumped shoulder and smiled. "Thank you for returning the money. But why the middle of the night? You two scared me half to death."

Heyes leaned against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. "We wanted to make sure that you were all right, but we didn't want ya callin' in the sheriff."

"I didn't tell the sheriff when you stole the money, and I won't do it now."

Curry's head snapped up, and he met the older man's hazel eyes with a direct stare. "Mr. Blake, if you knew we took the money, why didn't ya tell the sheriff?"

Blake sighed and rubbed his eyes before answering. "I shoulda done better by you boys. Turning you out in the mountains of Montana in winter is hardly an act of Christian charity. I was wrapped up in my own problems and didn't think about how it was affecting you two. I wish that I had kept you on for room and board until spring. I'm sorry I didn't do that."

Heyes ran his hands through his hair. "We took almost a thousand dollars from you, and you're apologizin' to us? That don't make sense."

"Maybe not, Heyes, but thank you for paying it back."

"Don't thank me," he scoffed. "Thank Jed. He insisted we bring you the money. He kept harpin' on about it bein' a matter of honor."

Curry scowled at his partner, but Blake laughed.

"Yet here you are Han Heyes, helping him return the money. You could of sent him alone. Besides, I'm guessing that half of that money came from you."

He stared at Heyes, waiting for confirmation. After a pause, the dark-haired boy nodded.

Blake smiled. "Then thank you, Han." Blake glanced at the money in the envelope. "I'm not going to ask where you got the money to pay me back."

Heyes and Curry shot each other a look.

"It's all right, boys. I'm not asking."

Curry avoided Blake's eyes. Heyes challenged him with a glare.

"Ya know, Jed," soothed the older man. "Honor's a good thing, but it's hard to know what's honorable when you're watching your friend freeze or starve. I don't have the wisdom to judge the choices you boys have made." He pulled the blanket up further into his lap.

"Are you trying to say that you forgive us?" Heyes snarled. "We're not askin' for forgiveness. Jed didn't like thinking that we made you suffer, that's all."

"If you're not careful, Heyes, you're gonna turn into a jaded old man before you're twenty. So you want me to think that you've grown hard and don't care what decent people think. Listen up, boy. Nobody's honorable all the time. We all make mistakes, and turn the tables to our own advantage. If absolute honesty and constant honor are your standards for a good person, you're doomed to be disappointed. Don't set yourself up to be bitter. People make mistakes and hurt each other, but there's good in folks too. You two are a good example of that."

"What would someone like you know about it? It's not that easy," muttered the dark-haired boy.

"Okay, Heyes, you want unvarnished honesty. I feel guilty for turning you boys out. I shoulda kept you on through the winter. But that's not why I didn't report you to the sheriff. I was hungry and cold myself once. I got tired of working for a fella who used my ideas to make money for himself. So I liberated a few thousand dollars from him. That's where I got the stake to open the store. Now I'm seeing how the good Lord has a sense of humor, and what goes around has a way of coming back home to roost. I don't approve of what ya did, but I got no right to condemn ya either."

"You stole money to open the store?" breathed Curry.

"Don't go judgmental on me now, Jed. I'm pretty sure that you'ld be a pot calling this old kettle black."

"But you seem so honest."

"Most of the time, I am." He watched them both. "Heyes, you probably think I'm a crazy old coot, but you need to fence in that cynicism. Most folks have a healthy dose of good in 'em. If you look for that, and appreciate it when ya find it, you'll be a lot happier."

Heyes lowered his eyebrows and covered his mouth with one hand. After an uncomfortable silence, he coughed. "I guess we should be going and let you get back to sleep. Thank you for not telling the sheriff what we did."

"You're welcome, Han. Hold on to that personal honor, Jed, but remember that we all have feet of clay."

"I'll try, sir."

The two young men disappeared down the stairs and slipped back into the darkness.

10


End file.
